International travel is incredibly taxing. Just... yuck. You'd think this would get better as the years go by, and compared to horse-drawn carriages and months-long voyages at sea I guess it's incomparably better, but... I guess a part of me just wishes for Star Trek travel. (Note the nod to Star Trek in my blog entry title)
I got to my seat in the international flight, and the rather old, rather eccentric, rather unhealthy-looking man on the aisle end of my row asked me if I was sitting there and if I had a little baby. I told him yes I was sitting there but no baby, and he said in a Virginian accent, "Aww, that's too bad. I love little babies. Are you a teenager?" I told him no, I wasn't, and he said, "Oh, good!! I hate teenagers." ...Okay. He was sort of an odd bird. And he continued speaking to me for the rest of the flight. About anything and nearly everything. He has at least two kids, one named Sarah Elizabeth who's doing her medical residency at the Mayo clinic. He has worked in South America, Europe, North America, speaks several languages, attends a Korean church because the music is pretty (he doesn't really care much what the pastor's saying), reads books on thermodynamics, physics and philosophy, quantum physics, appreciates operatic singers, has had eye, knee, and brain surgery, and has a low sodium diet (so he gave me all the pretzels, peanuts, and cheese that he got during the flight). *blink blink* I don't even remember what all else. But most of the passengers nearby got to hear the stories too, since he had a booming (if creaky) voice.
We waited at the boarding gate for over an hour while they called in an Engineer to check on a monitor that had failed. It was apparently backed up by several redundant systems, but they still wanted to make sure it was okay. Finally we were cleared for takeoff, and they served us an early dinner about 2 hours into the flight. Right after dinner, the captain announced another apology: a temperature gauge for one of the engines (and all of its redundant system displays) were out, so we couldn't check the engine temperature for the rest of the flight. Apparently this was not a good thing as we were approaching the north pole. SO the flight was recalled BACK to Detroit for the safety of everyone aboard. ...Yeah. At least I got to watch another in-flight movie...
They made an interesting announcement in addition to all their apologies. They said we couldn't land at our current weight, since the landing procedure was designed for a plane that had expended much more fuel flying all the way over the North Pole to get to South Korea. As a result, they would have to dump fuel. They told us not to be alarmed, but that what might look like smoke or something coming from the wigs would actually be tons of fuel being ejected from the plane to allow us to land. This would last for around 30 minutes. I wanted to take a picture since I was by a window, but I was afraid that some nervous person would accuse me of something sinister, so I refrained... I did find a picture online though. Delta did allow a brief Q&A session in which we could ask some questions of the senior crew, but then question time ended and we had to sit quietly and wait out the return trip.
When we got back to Detroit it was late afternoon. Some of the military passengers were a little nervous about the delay since they were flying in to report to duty. I hope they were able to work out that snafu with their superiors during the waiting time back at the airport. At least I got to go up to them as they stood huddled around the airport swapping stories to thank them for their service. My youngest cousin just took his oath to join the US Army, so seeing these young guys there was a very strong image.
Delta issued us about $18 in meal vouchers (and some peanuts and bottled water), even though none of us were all that hungry after having just eaten a load of airline food, and told us that another replacement flight could leave in 2 hours. This would now be 7 hours later than the departure time I had expected. What could we do? I used my vouchers to eat at an internet cafe so I could access Facebook and update my family on the whole fiasco. Let me repeat: this was DELTA airlines. DELTA. Just in case someone didn't catch it. (Delta). I stopped by a souvenir shop and bought a card with the serenity prayer on it. Needed the reminder to accept the things I cannot change.
Finally the flight departed, again, and I was back with my chatty seat buddy. He said that as horrible as the flight situation was, in general he didn't want Star Trek-style transporters since you'd miss so many amazing sights along the way. He entertained me with all kinds of interesting stories about his travels moving slowly through Europe, and... I had to admit his point was valid. He said he was going to take a sleeping pill, but I'm pretty sure he never did or if so it didn't work.
I managed to get in a few in-flight movies, though these were interrupted many times by more stories along the way. For this part of the journey, I managed to watch The Philadelphia Story, Easy A, and "Once More with Feeling," from Buffy the Vampire Slayer. On the way to America, I had watched the movie Hanna, a Jamie Cullum jazz concert, and the first part of Green Lantern, but it was so cheesy I turned it off. Korean Air definitely had better interface for the in-flight entertainment, though Delta had a really excellent selection of movies. It helped pass the time.
When I arrived in Korea, the customs part of it only lasted a few minutes. I had no problems, and they didn't even ask to scan my bags. Super fast and easy. The problem was, by the time I got to Korea after all the flight delays, it was around 11:30 p.m., and the last bus to my city had departed. This left me with the undesirable options of taking a taxi or staying at the airport sauna all night and taking the first bus home, unpacking everything, and going to school immediately after. Well, I didn't consider the second one an option really. So I braced myself to be ripped off by a late night taxi driver, reluctantly withdrew extra cash from the ATM that I knew I'd need, and wheeled my huge heavy bags out to the taxi area...
Consistent with my concern, a taxi driver approached me and offered to help. This was my first warning sign. He loaded the bags into his yellow taxi (the non-white color and his eagerness to help were another warning sign). My expectations of being ripped off were now about 60%. I asked how much the trip would cost, since I've heard you can get an estimate beforehand, and he said, "Meter, meter!" My bags were in his car and he was getting in, so I had little choice. Well, I didn't see a meter anywhere in sight. My expectations of being overcharged had now risen to about 90%. He made some small talk in broken English as we went.
(A Star Trek cab encounter)
When we arrived only about 25-30 minutes later, he unloaded all my bags again, and I asked the inevitable question, "How much?" He gave the inevitable answer: "Eighty." Yep, 80 bucks for a short-distance, late-night taxi ride that should have cost closer to $50-60. This is why foreigners don't like to take taxis sometimes. He glanced into my wallet as I pulled out the cash and saw some American $20s. "US dollar $70!" he said, but I only had $42. Apparently 42 isn't always the answer to life, the universe and *everything.* There was no choice really, so I coughed up the money and gave him a dirty look as he left. I could have tried to negotiate, or could have taken down his license plate and name/driver ID if my state of mind after travel had been a little clearer, but at least I was back safely and almost in front of my apartment entrance.
An American neighbor who had stayed up late waiting on my arrival helped me drag all the suitcases back up to my apartment where I could unpack and collapse into sleep. I hardly needed the Tylenol PM that night. What a wild, eventful, memorable journey!
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